20. “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” - Taylor Swift #2
“I didn’t realize you cared so much about this country.” I don’t mean to sound rude, but exiling himself to London hasn’t exactly scored him patriotism points.
“Of course I care about Wesbourne.” He turns and ensnares my gaze with his own. My stomach does a little dip.
“Okay, so Wesbourne makes sense.” I finally free my gaze and look back down at the print in my hand. “But why do this for me?” He could just as easily have left me to figure this out on my own. It’s not like we’re married anymore.
Henry doesn’t speak for a long minute, not until I finally look back up at him. Then he says quietly, “I assumed that was blatantly obvious by now.”
I shake my head. “It’s not.”
He sighs deeply and runs his fingers through his hair. His movements are short and jerky, finally ending with him putting his hands in his pockets. His eyes grip mine again, overflowing with emotion. “Because I love you, C.”
My breath hitches on the inhale, expanding my chest like a balloon. I want to let everything out, to hear the whistle of air wheeze past, but it remains inflated, waiting for the pin that will pop the whole pretty picture.
He’s never said it before. All this time, he’s been holding the trump card close to his chest, waiting until the perfect moment to play it. He’s implied that he has feelings for me, he’s whispered sweet nothings that turned out to be bitter nothings, but I’ve never once heard him use the L-word.
The stakes in whatever game he’s playing must have risen. He would never have made this play otherwise.
“I’ve always loved you.” He edges a few inches closer to me, bringing the delicious heat of his body nearer. “For as long as I can remember. God, I am so in love with you, I can’t think straight.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with gentle fingers.
He’s saying things that have the ability to rock my world, and all I can do is stand here clutching my elbows. I’m completely frozen, transfixed by the power he wields over my heart.
“Please say something, C.”
I lick my dry lips without looking at him. “What would you like me to say?”
His body exhales backward, as if my words have physically knocked into him.
“Nothing, I guess.” He returns to the table and rubs the back of his neck.
After a few more tense seconds, he gathers the pages into a crumpled heap and moves toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Nice tree, by the way.”
I glance at the small evergreen in the corner, still devoid of ornaments. “You can’t say things like that!” The words tear out of me before I even realize I’m thinking them.
Henry slowly turns, a puzzled look on his face. “About the tree?”
“Of course not.”
He tosses the pages into the closest chair and stalks over to me. Cupping my trembling jaw, he pulls me against his chest. “I said it because it’s true.”
It takes every grain of discipline I have to keep myself from sinking into his embrace. This is exactly what I’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To hear him profess his undying love, to tell me the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding, that he’s been mine all along.
I can hear the sickening lurch as I grasp the knife he buried long ago and pull it from my belly, where the suction wants to hold it in place, because at least the pain reminds me that I’m still alive, that I’m capable of loving someone with every cell of my body.
That I can feel, even if it’s pain I’m feeling.
“It doesn’t matter.” I drop the hypothetical knife, and it hits the floor with a clatter.
“Of course it does. This changes everything, baby.”
I close my eyes as he moves even closer, close enough that I can feel his breath on my lips. I know what his next move will be.
As badly as I want to kiss him, I force myself to pull away. I tug my face from his grasp and step backward until I feel the table pressing against my tailbone. “You think you can whisper a few words in my ear and I’ll come running?”
“I—” He closes his mouth. Several seconds pass before he finally starts again. “Frankly, yes. I thought this was what you wanted. For us to be together.”
The laugh that floats past my lips is anything but amused. “What I want is for you to leave me alone.”
“You don’t mean that.” He steps closer. My heart goes into overdrive.
I hold up my hand to stop him. “Of the two of us, I’m the only one who actually means what they say.”
His eyelids drop lower, hooding his eyes. “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”
I cross my arms over my chest. I need to put a barrier between us before I do something stupid. “As long as it takes for you to get the message that I want nothing to do with you.”
Henry takes another tiny step closer, squishing the distance that separates us. The table is still digging into my back, and I have nowhere else to go. “You can push me away all you want, but you know we always find our way back to each other.”
My throat births a choking sob. I wish I knew how to make it untrue. “There’s a first time for everything,” I whisper.
“You’d rather never see me again than move past this?”
“How am I supposed to move past it, exactly?” I pause, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep over you? Or how many times I picked up the phone to tell you something, only to remember that you didn’t want me anymore?
” My voice cracks. “My dad died, Henry, and you weren’t there. ”
His face crumples, and he runs his hand over it. “You were better off without me.”
“How dare you make that decision for me!”
“There are so many things you don’t know.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
His sigh is deep, like it’s been pulled from the pit of his belly. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“I told you, I don’t want your protection.”
“You say that, but I’ve held you through two separate panic attacks. Clearly, you’re more scared than you’re letting on.” He props his hands on his hips. I can feel the frustration emanating from his muscles.
Of course I’m scared. I’m bloody terrified. Someone out there wants me dead for reasons unknown. It’s enough to make anyone quake. But what Henry doesn’t seem to grasp is that I’m even more petrified of what he might do to me if I allow him to get too close.
“Fear doesn’t give you the right to make decisions for me,” I say.
“I’m trying to do the right thing. I couldn’t live with myself if I let something happen to you.”
I push away from the table. “Something did happen to me! You, with your wrecking ball excuses.”
“Damn it, Celia. What do you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry for protecting you from myself’?”
He’s so close, too close. I can smell the spearmint from his gum and feel the heat from his chest. I shift my weight backward again, which puts a sliver of distance between us.
“That’s just it. You didn’t protect me. You left me gaping and vulnerable.”
He closes his eyes and flexes his jaw. “I didn’t know you would take it so hard.”
I don’t want to think about that summer and the fall that followed. Losing the boy you love, your best friend, or your father would be devastating for any teenage girl. Losing all three at once was absolute destruction.
“Maybe you didn’t know back then.” I fiddle with a thread on my sweater. “But you had to know in London . . .” I can’t even bring myself to finish the sentence. London was a different kind of heartbreak altogether.
“You’re right,” he says. “I did know. I suppose it’s too much for you to believe it was for your own good?”
I look up to find him watching me earnestly. “That would be correct.”
He deflates like a balloon. “Is there anything I can do to get you to trust me again?”
“No, Henry. There isn’t.”
Henry left the library a while ago, after our conversation shuddered to a halt and there was nothing left to say. I’ve been staring out the window at the city ever since, trying to decide how best to dismantle everything he dumped on me.
With some things in life, it’s better late than never, but you know what’s not? Finding out the man you’ve loved your entire life loves you back, but that he’d rather watch you suffer the heartbreak of his rejection than trust you with the truth.
My mind is still trying to process this information.
It’s as if a giant recycling truck pulled up to the back entrance of my brain, unloaded all the scraps, and now I’m left to sort it all into piles.
With every single thing that Henry told me, I have to hold it up, inspect it, and determine if it’s true or not.
But how can I do that when everything about our relationship has been a lie?
Snow has started gathering on the roofs of the buildings closest to the Atlantis. In the park below, the branches of the trees are quickly becoming white. It’s incredible how things can change in a matter of minutes.